


like real people do

by bleulily (wollstoncrafts)



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Pining, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, copious amounts of art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-05
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2020-02-26 20:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18724726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wollstoncrafts/pseuds/bleulily
Summary: “So what’s the plan?” Grantaire asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He placed a hand on Enjolras’s arm, warm and gentle against Enjolras’s skin.Enjolras gave his phone a last glance before turning his attention to the hand Grantaire had placed against his arm. He realised Grantaire was covering him from the guides in case they turned back to see them. Enjolras smiled. “We have to pretend to be dating whenever we’re near them,” Enjolras explained. “You know, do those cheesy things Marius does whenever he has a new fancy. I don’t want to disappoint my mother or ruin your night.”Grantaire regarded him, his head tilting to the side as an eyebrow quirked curiously, his lips turning upwards into a sly smile. “So you think Pontmercy is the model of excellence for a healthy and romantic relationship?”





	like real people do

**Author's Note:**

> "It's gonna be a short fic" they said, "not gonna be longer than 5K" they said.
> 
> A few weeks ago I saw a [ tweet ](https://twitter.com/UnderdogMX/status/1114187633821933570) (it's in Spanish btw) about some raffle to spend the night at the Louvre and I sent it to one of my friends saying that was perfect material for a fake dating au. Idk all the details about that raffle or how the couple who won would spend the night, so all the events of this fic are all entirely my imagination. Also, I'm aware of there being a fic by [ enjoloras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enjoloras/pseuds/Enjoloras) where they visit the Louvre (specifically Liberty Leading the People) so I tried to make it as different as possible.
> 
> Many thanks to my friend [ Paria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laallomri/pseuds/laallomri) who helped me beta-read this fic.
> 
> Anyway, here's my first ever Les Mis fic, I wanted to write something for the same prompt challenge and this is what happened. 
> 
>  
> 
> Title comes from the song by Hozier (which is an excellent e/R anthem, if anyone's interested)

Enjolras stood quietly against a wall, his eyes studying the room he was in as he listened intently to the young woman explaining how the rest of his and Grantaire’s evening would go. She had introduced herself as Cosette, and she was as pleasant as she was clever, someone educated on every corner and secret from the museum they were now in. Enjolras had never been to the Louvre before, despite his mother’s pleas, and he appreciated the little insight he could get before he delved inside for the rest of the night.

She was accompanied by another guide, one who, although not very talkative, offered her own insight into how Enjolras and Grantaire could spend their night. There was something curious in her eyes, some glint that reminded Enjolras of his own friend Jehan--and even his own mother. The two of them addressed Enjolras and Grantaire attentively, as any other tour guide would, but there was something warm and kind in their eyes that made Enjolras feel as though they were already friends.

He turned to look at Grantaire, who stood surprisingly quiet beside him. He was smiling to himself, as he always did when he thought no one else was looking. It was an old habit, one Enjolras had grown accustomed to. He knew Grantaire would be pleased to spend a night at the Louvre, no matter who he spent it with. He would often speak passionately about the history of art and classics; they were two things that had seemingly stolen Grantaire’s heart, two things that would often take his mind away from all his worries.

Enjolras had made a point to himself to make sure Grantaire would spend his spring break happy, as the two of them would be the only ones to stay in Paris before their classes would resume. He wanted all his friends to return to college feeling reinvigorated and well-rested, so that every meeting would carry on as perfectly as planned.

Originally, he hadn’t planned for any of this to happen this way. Enjolras had thought of inviting Grantaire for coffee or maybe to watch a movie with him. He knew Grantaire might be lonely with his own roommates going out for the holidays, and he couldn’t bear the thought of Grantaire sitting on a couch silently for two whole weeks. But the Louvre wasn’t something he had thought of until his mother walked into his apartment with two tickets she had won in a raffle. He was aware it was a silly idea, but the moment his mouth had dropped Grantaire’s name to his mother, there was no going back.

The two guides motioned for Enjolras and Grantaire to follow them, their pleasant smiles still on their faces. Grantaire turned to look at Enjolras reluctantly, then followed the ladies inside. Enjolras watched contented, his heart fluttering when he noticed Grantaire still wore a little smile. He quickly followed the step of the guides and Grantaire, until he heard a buzz coming from his jeans pocket. It was a text from his mother: good wishes for Enjolras and his boyfriend sealed with a kissing emoji. Enjolras smiled down to his phone and sent a grateful reply.

“So what’s the plan?” Grantaire asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. He placed a hand on Enjolras’s arm, warm and gentle against Enjolras’s skin.

Enjolras gave his phone a last glance before turning his attention to the hand Grantaire had placed against his arm. He realised Grantaire was covering him from the guides in case they turned back to see them. Enjolras smiled. “We have to pretend to be dating whenever we’re near them,” Enjolras explained. “You know, do those cheesy things Marius does whenever he has a new fancy. I don’t want to disappoint my mother or ruin your night.”

Grantaire regarded him, his head tilting to the side as an eyebrow quirked curiously, his lips turning upwards into a sly smile. “So you think Pontmercy is the model of excellence for a healthy and romantic relationship?” Grantaire laughed. He waited for Enjolras to swat him, but he was met with a hand pressed against his lips to keep quiet. When he was quiet again, Enjolras pulled his hand away. “I can be romantic,” Grantaire assured him, his voice more serious.

Enjolras regarded him, searching for any hint of humour in his words, then grabbed Grantaire’s hand to entwine their fingers. “So can I,” Enjolras said defiantly.

Grantaire stayed quiet as they resumed their walking, the two guides seemingly unaware of the conversation Enjolras and Grantaire had just held. They lead the two boys towards the inside of the pyramids, where another small pyramid sat right in the middle. There was a king size bed and a few plants inside, a secluded but comfortable place for them to spend the night. Enjolras’s heart raced against his chest.

He turned to look at Grantaire, who was examining the small space, his eyes widening in awe. When he noticed Enjolras was staring at him, he smiled. “Well, sweetcheeks, I think you really might get an award for romancing me now.”

“We hope you like the space we have arranged for the two of you,” Cosette said softly, “Éponine and I thought you might find the view more romantic, especially at night.”

Enjolras bowed his head to thank them, then turned away to look at Grantaire as the girls discussed something about the tour to each other. Grantaire was already looking at him when he turned, a mischievous smile forming on his lips. He walked towards Enjolras determinedly, then pressed his lips against Enjolras’s ear, his finger moving to point at the sky shining before their eyes. “Imagine the show curious voyeurists could get if they walked around.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes and pushed Grantaire away, his stomach twirling when Grantaire began to laugh. “Was that really the first thing that came to your mind?”

Grantaire shook his head, his eyes wrinkling as he continued to laugh. Enjolras found, despite himself, that small dimple that would always form on Grantaire’s cheek, and he stopped himself from attempting to press a finger against it. “It is a grand possibility, you have to admit,” he said, then grabbed Enjolras’s arm and pushed him away from the guides, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Imagine if it hadn’t been us who had gotten those tickets, and it was someone who would  _ really _ want to spend a romantic evening with their beloved.”

Enjolras pushed Grantaire away once again, his stomach twisting upon hearing Grantaire’s words. He couldn’t pinpoint why the words had hurt him, but replaying them in his head wasn’t making anything better, so he turned to the two guides, who were now looking at them expectantly. When they had noticed Enjolras and Grantaire now held their attention, Cosette spoke again.

“Éponine and I were wondering if you’d like to have your dinner now, or if you’d prefer to start your tour and wait to have your dinner later after the sun has completely set.”

Enjolras and Grantaire turned to look at each other, and a wide grin spread through Grantaire’s lips. “If it’s okay, I think my sweet angel and I would prefer to start our tour now and have dinner later. It might be better to eat once we’ve tired ourselves out for a bit than now when we’re still full of energy.”

Enjolras’s heart jolted impatiently upon hearing the pet name, but he quickly ignored it. Instead he locked eyes with Cosette and nodded. “I agree with my boyfriend.” He took a deep breath. “I think it would be nice to start our tour now, and have a romantic dinner later.”

Cosette and Éponine nodded.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras walked behind the guides, listening intently as they explained the story behind each of the pieces they were looking at. They had been taken to an Egyptian collection to begin the tour, one of the most recently added collections, if Enjolras remembered correctly. He scanned the room, taking each and every piece into memory, and smiled whenever Grantaire pointed at something that particularly caught his attention.

Enjolras had always been intrigued by Egyptian mythology, the tales and gods who piqued his curiosity since he was a kid. He remembered his mother showing him her books about old Egyptian art whenever she tucked him into bed, and how happy he was whenever they shared those moments.

He stared at a long pharaoh statue for a moment, getting lost away from the guides and their loud chattering. He could recall seeing it before, in those books his mother owned, and his heart brimmed with joy as he recalled it. He realised a moment too late that he had been staring in awe for a little too long, when Grantaire walked up to him beaming.

“Is my sweet honey bun enjoying this collection?” he asked, amused. Enjolras felt his cheeks flush and turned away. Grantaire’s expression softened. “Sorry, I just didn’t know you were so interested in Egyptian art.”

Enjolras nodded. “You know, I do enjoy a great deal of things outside the meetings,” he confessed, his voice stern. “One of them would be history, though I don’t feel particularly driven to talk about it outside of the context of our cause. I do believe though, that I make a mention of topics I might find relevant to whatever we might discuss in our meetings. Maybe next time I will take a moment to discuss why leaders like Akhenaten cause more damage to society than good, and why it’s important to never let them come to power again.”

Grantaire laughed, a sweet and gentle sound that made Enjolras’s stomach twirl. Enjolras found himself joining him for a gratifying moment, until Grantaire spoke again. “I know you like history,” he said. “I remember you saying that you considered studying it, but political science ended up being your topic of choice because that would make it easier for you to approach others about making a change.”

Enjolras stared at him wide-eyed, his stomach fluttering. He could still remember the meeting when he had commented on his course of study to a couple of his friends. It had been an offhand comment, a response to a curious question from Jehan, but he had never imagined anyone else cared enough about it to listen. He felt known, and a little exposed, but he didn’t really mind it. “It was also my father,” Enjolras confessed. “He thought I would never be able to make anything of myself if I studied history. I don’t agree with him, but I think this field of study might help me more with what I want to do.”

Grantaire smiled, sweet and gentle as his laugh, then took his hand again. “Well, I’m glad my sweet pudding has found his true calling then,” Grantaire said jokingly.

Enjolras rolled his eyes and shook his head. “You should stop with those ridiculous nicknames, the guides aren’t even looking.”

Grantaire placed an arm around his shoulders and smiled. Enjolras’s heart raced against his chest. “But these are all exactly what I would call my own boyfriend,” he admitted. The two of them kept a steady pace until they were standing before a sphynx. Grantaire studied it for a moment, his eyes widening in curiosity, then he turned to Enjolras again. “Why have a boyfriend if you won’t rack your brain trying to think of cheesy things to call him.”

Enjolras opened his mouth to protest, but they were interrupted by the two guides who studied them curiously. They shared a knowing look between each other, then burst into giggles. “My most sincere apologies, but we were wondering where the two of you had gone,” Éponine explained. “It never occurred to us that you might have wanted a private moment to yourselves, but of course, this is a sort of date after all.”

Enjolras and Grantaire turned to look at each other, their cheeks flushed with embarrassment. When they turned back to address the guides, the two girls burst into giggles once more, and assured them it wouldn’t happen again. It was going to be a very long night.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras listened to the two guides as they thoroughly explained the history of Mesopotamia. He was holding Grantaire’s hand as they walked, their fingers intertwined. Every now and then Grantaire would get distracted by a pottery piece or a little statuette and whisper to Enjolras about it. Enjolras found himself as interested by Grantaire’s little comments as he was by the guides’ stories, and soon enough he settled himself happily into the rest of the tour.

He stopped to admire a statuette before him, Grantaire following behind. Enjolras couldn’t help but notice how warm Grantaire’s hands felt against his, the calloused feeling of his fingers sending tingles through his spine. He had been close to Grantaire before, so proximity wasn’t an issue, but it was the way in which Grantaire’s feigned affection came so easily that made Enjolras’s stomach somersault. He was good at pretending, too good.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but how is it that you two got together?” Éponine asked suddenly, pulling Enjolras away from his thoughts. Grantaire jolted in surprise, his hand squeezing Enjolras’s for a brief moment. Enjolras smiled. “Sorry, it just seems to me that you’ve been in love with each other for quite some time.”

Enjolras and Grantaire exchanged a panicked glance. “Well, I believe it all started one night at a café,” Grantaire said before Enjolras could open his mouth. Enjolras gave him a questioning look, but Grantaire just offered him a reassuring smile. “My friend Joly had been insisting on me joining this club with his other friends for quite some time. I was reluctant about it at first, since it wasn’t really my cup of tea. Still isn’t, but when I entered the place I found a seraph spreading gospel about the goodness of people. It was like love at first sight.” He laughed, then turned to face the guides. “I haven’t regretted going to that café ever since.”

Enjolras regarded him for a moment, his mouth agape. Grantaire still kept their fingers intertwined, the tips of his thumb brushing against the back of Enjolras’s hands, but his eyes had gone elsewhere, unable to meet Enjolras’s gaze. Enjolras wanted to understand the sudden change in his demeanor, but the thoughts that crossed his mind only made his heart begin to race.

“But then who ended up asking the other out?” Éponine insisted, her eyes gleaming. Enjolras had forgotten her initial question, had even forgotten he and Grantaire weren’t alone. There was something in the girls’ expressions, something curious and happy, the kind of happiness people harbour when they feel joy on behalf of their friends. Enjolras could almost understand. “How did you two end up together?”

Grantaire opened his mouth to speak, but Enjolras interrupted him. “It was Grantaire, actually,” he said firmly, eyeing Grantaire as he spoke. When Grantaire’s eyes widened in surprise, Enjolras smiled again. “He came to one of my meetings one night and asked to sit alone with me after it was all over. When I did, he got the two of us coffee and explained to me how he felt. It was almost as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, knowing my feelings were reciprocated.”

“Because, you see, Enjolras had been attempting to ask me out on a date for the whole week,” Grantaire interjected. “He kept telling his close friends how  _ hopelessly  _ in love with me he was, and I think he tired them out enough for Courfeyrac to finally convince him to do something about his feelings.” He regarded Enjolras with a sly grin, then continued, “When I asked him to join me at the table he offered me a very small bouquet of wilted flowers. They’d been ruined by the rain--it was a stormy summer night, and he felt terribly about it afterwards. He tried to mend it by offering me something for dinner, but then I explained to him how these flowers could make for an excellent addition to my sketchbook, and that’s when I told him how I felt. The rest is history.”

“Love, I think you have forgotten how you told me about your feelings but then forgot to actually ask me out,” Enjolras challenged, his eyes piercing through Grantaire’s and his hand squeezing Grantaire’s harder. To his dismay, Grantaire’s smile didn’t falter. “We went for dinner with Marius and Courfeyrac who insisted on spending time with us before the day came to an end. You kept us safe from the rain with that big umbrella you always carry with you because you’re always so sure something’s gonna come and ruin the rest of the day--so much for relying on the weather. I nearly asked you out right there, but then Marius nearly stumbled against a tree. It wasn’t until midnight, when you sent me a video of yourself singing that Elvis song you so dearly love, that you asked me to have dinner--just the two of us, at that Italian restaurant near Jehan’s.”

“I did… I did send you that video,” Grantaire whispered, his grin falling. Enjolras’s eyes widened with concern, but then Grantaire pressed a light kiss against the back of his hand. “I didn’t think you would remember that was my favourite song, or my favourite restaurant. But then again, it’s this attention you put into all details that made me fall in love with you.”

Enjolras’s eyes widened, completely taken aback by Grantaire’s choice of words. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look away, his heart beating loudly against his chest. Grantaire was still pressing his own hand close to his chest, but his head had tilted with concern. Before either of them were able to say anything, Éponine spoke again.

“This is so romantic,” she uttered, then turned to Cosette. “Do you think you could be able to learn a thing or two from them?”

Grantaire snorted.

 

* * *

 

 

“A musical confession, huh,” Grantaire observed. “Didn’t think you could come up with cheesy things like that.”

“It wasn’t me who did it, it was you,” Enjolras remarked. “Besides, you’ve always been the guy who would jump at the opportunity to show off your fantastic guitar skills, if it means to win someone’s heart.”

Grantaire laughed. “Hey, I have to put all these skills I’ve gathered through my years of life to use, and romance does seem like the best opportunity.”

Enjolras stared at him, his stomach fluttering at the lovely sound of Grantaire’s laughter. It wasn’t that Enjolras had never heard him laugh--they had known each other enough years for Enjolras to get used to the sound of Grantaire’s laugher--but it was the first time Grantaire had laughed because something Enjolras had said, or at least that he was aware of. Enjolras looked away to the two guides walking before them, his cheeks flushing as he tore his eyes away from Grantaire. He noticed a tall statue standing nearby and walked to inspect it.

He had seen it before in pictures, a very famous rendition of Goddess Nike. There were several statues scattered around the collection, but none of them seemed to capture his attention the way the beheaded marble had done. He pulled out his phone to take a picture of it and later send it to his mum, then realised Grantaire had moved to stand besides him. Enjolras offered him a smile before Grantaire broke the silence.

“I was really looking forward to this collection,” Grantaire confessed, his voice tinged with joy. “It’s been months since the last time I came here. Seeing these pieces brings me so much peace--or at least something close to it.”

Enjolras snorted. “I thought you might say that.”

“Of course you did.”

Enjolras’ stomach jolted then, the memory of Grantaire’s words when the guides asked them about their relationship still fresh in his mind. He thought of asking Grantaire about it, confronting him about the reality of his words, and then perhaps facing his own emotions, but before Enjolras was able to open his mouth, Grantaire had already shifted elsewhere.

“Did I ever tell you about my first attempt at sculpting?” Grantaire asked, a brow raised in curiosity. Enjolras shook his head. “It was my freshman year, and I walked into my first sculpture class with the confidence of an eighteen year old who has no idea what awaits him in art school.” Grantaire laughed. “Our teacher told us we would try to do something with clay to begin the semester, and by the end of it we would carve it again into cement. He told us we could choose anything, so I chose the Venus de Milo. I really thought I could pull it off, since our teacher kept saying sculpting was just sketching but in 3D, and I was already able to do realistic paintings. I was such a fool.”

Enjolras laughed. “I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as you say.”

“It wasn’t bad, Enjolras,” Grantaire remarked, “It was terrible.”

Enjolras smiled as Grantaire took his hand and motioned for the two of them to continue walking. The two guides were lost amidst the collection, probably relieved to find some time to spend by themselves. Enjolras continued admiring the statues and listened in silence as Grantaire explained the story behind each. There were several pieces Enjolras felt compelled to take a picture of, but as he came across the statue of a tall and handsome man, Grantaire pulled at him with a wide grin.

“I’ve been waiting for you to see this for hours,” he said giddily. “I can’t believe you worked as a model for the Greeks all those years ago and never bothered to tell me.”

Enjolras felt heat rise to his cheeks, and quickly looked away. “Wh-what?”

Grantaire laughed. “This is Apollo Sauroktonos,” he explained, “Probably one of my favourite greco-roman pieces to exist. Not only is every detail of this piece made into perfection, but the image he depicts--this lizard-slayer-Apollo--I think he reminds me of you.”

Enjolras stared at the piece, his cheeks turning darker as he heard Grantaire’s words. He took a deep breath then turned to look at the man in question, but before Enjolras could offer a retort, Grantaire had already walked away, a sly grin forming on his lips.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras watched as the two guides retreated to speak in private. They had taken Enjolras and Grantaire towards an islamic collection, one full of objects and pieces Enjolras had never seen in his life before, not even in pictures. He carefully looked at each of them, his eyes growing curious as he observed every single detail and word these pieces entailed. Grantaire stood next to him, his eyes gleaming as he discovered a painting with patterns of blue flowers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Grantaire asked, his voice soft.

Enjolras nodded, his eyes moving distractedly to the painting by its side. He walked around the room, his eyes falling from pieces of ceramic to an animal statuette standing proudly behind a box of glass. He wanted to take several pictures of each piece to show them to his mother, but something in his heart stirred, making him unable to move. He stood in place, his eyes moving towards Grantaire, who kept roaming around the room.

“I can’t begin to imagine the horrible ways in which they got ahold of all these pieces,” Enjolras murmured.

Grantaire smiled. “Someone should take into the role of Carmen Sandiego and steal these to take them back to their own countries,” he said, his eyes shifting from the animal Enjolras had been admiring to another painting. When he realised Enjolras hadn’t responded, his expression fell with concern. “I thought you might agree.”

Enjolras nodded absentmindedly. “I do,” he confessed, his stomach fluttering. “Grantaire, of course I agree.”

Grantaire smiled, then turned to look behind Enjolras. The two guides were standing behind them, expectant smiles forming on their faces. Before Enjolras was able to ask if there was a problem, Cosette chimed: “Gentlemen, I really hope you have enjoyed your tour around these galleries, but I’m afraid we have to escort you to your dinner before we can continue touring.”

Enjolras and Grantaire nodded in unison, and before Grantaire could react, Enjolras took his hand.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras and Grantaire were lead towards a salon where their dinner awaited them. It was a grand room, the kind of place people who were more adept to art would appreciate. There was a chandelier hanging above their heads, the crystals in it ranging in different sizes. Enjolras lead the two of them through the room, a small smile forming on his lips as he noticed the way in which Grantaire’s eyes widened as he observed the place.

There was a table in the middle of the room, with a beautiful red tablecloth covering it. Enjolras and Grantaire walked towards it, their eyes lighting up when they realised there were also candles and a bouquet of flowers decorating the table. Enjolras had to admit it was a nice touch, the kind of romantic thing he would only find in movies he tended to watch with his mum. He took a seat, Grantaire following behind, then turned to look at him. Grantaire was smiling, soft and genuine, and Enjolras felt something tug at his chest.

“I never thought our first date together would be so fancy, didn’t take you for that kind of guy,” Grantaire joked. When Enjolras nudged him, he let out a laugh. “No, but seriously, this is kind of very romantic.”

Enjolras looked around the room, his eyes falling on a violinist playing a gentle song in the back of the room, and his stomach churned. He wondered what it would have been like if an actual couple had earned this night at the museum instead of them, how happy they would be to cherish a moment with their significant other in such a romantic avenue, and he felt a pang of guilt hit his chest. When he looked up, Grantaire was looking at him, concerned.

Enjolras couldn’t help but remember all the smiles Grantaire had failed to hide from him as they made their way across the museum. It was a place Grantaire undeniably loved, and being in this position probably brought a sense of joy nothing else ever could. When Grantaire quietly asked him if something was the matter, Enjolras gently took Grantaire’s hand again and shook his head.

The two of them stood in silence until a stranger arrived to serve their meals. It was a gentleman not much older than Enjolras and Grantaire, but with mannerisms that reminded Enjolras of their own friend Jehan. He was kind and a little shy, but he made sure Enjolras and Grantaire dined happily. The two of them ate in silence, both of them too caught up in everything around them to bother with starting a conversation. When the two of them were offered dessert, Enjolras was the first one to speak.

“There’s something I have to ask,” he murmured, then let out a quiet laugh. “How did you even come up with that whole story about you falling in love with me from the moment you saw me?”

Grantaire’s eyes widened, his body completely frozen in place. He looked down at his plate, as if embarrassed—a look that didn’t fit Grantaire at all--then let out a sigh when Enjolras’s phone buzzed with a text from his mother.

“What’s the matter?” Grantaire asked. He took a bite from the cake he had picked as his dessert, then tilted his head to hear Enjolras more carefully.

Enjolras hesitated before replying. “My mother says she wants to meet you in the morning when this is all over. I told her a few things about you, but I didn’t think she would actually ask me to meet you.”

“Oh,” Grantaire nodded, “Well, I’m fine with it as long as you are too.”

Enjolras looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Yeah, your mother sounds like a lovely woman,” Grantaire admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “How did she end up convincing you to do this? You never told me.”

Enjolras stared at him dumbfounded, the little compliment Grantaire had given his mother unable to escape his mind. Enjolras had only mentioned her a few times during his meetings, and although he was sure it was common knowledge that she would often visit him and Combeferre, he didn’t think anyone other than Courfeyrac cared enough to listen to anything regarding her.

“She wanted to get these tickets herself,” Enjolras replied. “She really enjoys art and she visits here whenever she has the chance. But recently she sat down and had a chat with Courfeyrac as they waited for me and Combeferre to get ready for a meeting, and he gave her all these ideas about how I should give romance a chance and not only focus on activism. To be perfectly honest I hadn’t heard of this until after she gave me the news, but when she won the raffle she gave me the tickets and expected me to find a date. When I told her I wanted to bring you, she immediately assumed we were together, and now here we are.”

Grantaire stayed quiet as Enjolras recounted the story, but when Enjolras smiled and took a bite of ice cream, Grantaire let out a laugh. “So your first thought was to bring me with you?” he asked, incredulous. “I thought you would prefer to bring Combeferre or Courfeyrac instead.”

Enjolras shook his head. “Combeferre and Courfeyrac don’t care about art as much as you do. They may admire it, yes, but I don’t think they would have enjoyed this tour half as much as you did. Plus neither of them is home for the holidays.”

Grantaire nodded solemnly, his eyes casting down. “So you thought of me first? I was your first option?” he asked, his voice higher pitched than usual. “A date with me doesn’t sound like something we would agree on, usually.”

Enjolras’s stomach twisted, and he stopped himself from taking one last bite from his dessert. “I… I thought about offering you the other ticket and just letting you pick whoever else you preferred. But I know my mother well enough, and I know she would ask me what I thought of the Louvre. She’s insisted that I come here for quite some time now, and she sounded very happy when I agreed to visit.”

Grantaire laughed. “You know, Enjolras, one day you might have to learn that you can’t always live off making everyone else happy,” he said softly.

Enjolras shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said solemnly, “My mother and I… we only have each other. When my father abandoned her, we both went through a very difficult time, especially her. Sometimes I didn’t know what to do to offer her my support, but gradually things got better and I realised how much better everything was whenever she was happy. She taught me to be the man I am today.” He smiled. “You know she wants to have her own restaurant one day? She’s a great cook, and equally as stubborn and determined as me.”

Grantaire stared at him, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He opened his mouth to speak and immediately closed it. Enjolras felt the weight of his own words dawn on him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Grantaire. In fact, he found himself feeling calm over the fact that he had laid himself bare before the man. But it was this realisation alone that made Enjolras’s stomach jolt with an emotion he didn’t dare to focus on.

“She doesn’t just sound like a lovely woman, she sounds like a heroine,” Grantaire finally said, his voice gentle. He searched for Enjolras’s hand for a moment, then gently pressed it against his own. “I’d love to meet her tomorrow.”

Enjolras laughed. “I’m sure she’s looking forward to meet you too.”

Grantaire looked down at their intertwined hands, then smiled. “Have I ever told you about my own mother?” he asked, his voice brimming with joy. “I think our mothers would get along very well. I know mine to be a heroine because she always put up with me and each of my siblings.”

“I don’t believe you have,” Enjolras admitted, then motioned for Grantaire to continue his story.

“She was a single mother too. Six generations of women and men who turn out to be trash, go figure,” he admitted, “Tough and gentle, but she would take us down to this farm every last Sunday of the month, and together we would pick the seasonal fruit and eat like kings. Sometimes my siblings and I would run around our grandmother’s farm, and get in trouble with the trees or the animals roaming around. I wonder how she never sold us away, since we were always arguing or stealing food from each other. Sometimes I wonder how they manage to still live like that back in Lyon.”

Enjolras laughed. “Sounds like a lovely family,” he admitted. “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have other siblings. Courfeyrac says it’s unbearable, but I don’t believe him.”

“You should,” Grantaire said, quickly pointing his fork at Enjolras. “My siblings are demons, but I’m sure they’d love you.”

“I’d like to meet them one day,” Enjolras admitted before he was able to stop himself.

Grantaire stares at him dumbfounded, his lips slightly parted. Enjolras opened his mouth to contradict himself and take his words back, his heart beating loudly against his chest, but Grantaire stopped him.

“I’m sure they’d love to meet you too,” he said. “Maybe you could come with me and visit them over the summer. I’m sure my mother wouldn’t mind if I let her know far enough ahead of time.”

Enjolras studied him, unable to decipher if Grantaire was serious or merely joking. He watched as Grantaire took the final bite of his cake, then smiled with relief when he realised Éponine and Cosette had approached them. They asked for their waiter to remove their plates, then stared at them expectantly. Before Enjolras could ask, they asked him if they would like to continue the tour or if they’d prefer to head to bed.

Grantaire took his hand and gave them a cheeky smile. “If it’s not much bother, there’s something I need my sweet angel to see before we both head to bed.”

 

* * *

 

 

“What is it you want to show me?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire turned to him, his head tilting, a sly smile forming on his lips. “It wouldn’t be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?”

Enjolras rolled his eyes, but a faint smile tugged at his lips. They’d been walking through a collection of statues ever since they had left the salon. It was impressive, that much Enjolras had the ability to say--every single piece was a new story to discover. Grantaire walked by his side, a wide grin on his lips as he admired each of the statues. Their two guides were walking before them, both of them growing a little more quiet as the evening passed.

Enjolras walked past several statues without really bothering to study them. There was one among the crowd he was looking to take a picture of and later send to his mother. He found it within the marble walls, the two lovers embraced in perfectly sculpted marble. Enjolras hesitated before he approached them, his eyes narrowing as if to study them. He had seen plenty of pictures of the statue before, as it was his mother’s favourite statue, but he had never been able to see the details up close.

“Eros and Psyche,” Grantaire murmured behind him, his voice tinted with delight. He had followed Enjolras quietly, making sure to pull out his phone to take a picture of the statue as well. His shoulder bumped against Enjolras’s, the warmth radiating from his body sending tingles through Enjolras. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in this one.”

“It’s my mother’s favourite,” Enjolras admitted. “Also Jehan’s, if I remember correctly. Something about the romance.”

Grantaire chuckled. “Of course,” he said. “We’ve discussed this before at one of your meetings. I distinctly believe you telling us to stay focused. Something about how there’s time to discuss old myths, and time to discuss the importance of maintaining a safe environment for animals to live in.”

“Was I wrong?” Enjolras asked, an eyebrow quirked defiantly.

Grantaire didn’t answer. He moved around the statue and smiled, his fingers lightly gracing the marble of the statue. Enjolras’s eyes widened, but Grantaire quickly retrieved his hand and laughed. “It was my favourite too, you know. When I was a kid, I would to the story to all my friends, I could never stop talking about it. I used to dream about falling in love with a person so painfully beautiful that it was impossible to look at them, just like Psyche did.”

“I’m not sure that’s how the story goes,” Enjolras interjected.

“Is it not?” Grantaire asked, his head tilting. There was an unmistakable amusement in his eyes, Enjolras couldn’t help but notice, and his stomach jolted.

“What was the thing you wanted to show me?” Enjolras asked, to divert the subject back to his interest.

Grantaire laughed. “Christ, you are persistent.”

“Tell me.”

Grantaire pressed a finger against Enjolras’s mouth, his finger callous and rough against Enjolras’s soft lips. Enjolras felt his heart thump loudly against his chest. “Not yet,” Grantaire whispered.

 

* * *

 

 

“These are ugly,” Grantaire muttered.

Cosette and Éponine had lead them to a medieval collection full of decorative items. Enjolras didn’t exactly find it appealing, as he didn’t find a particular interest for medieval times--and apparently, neither did Grantaire. He walked around the collection shuffling his feet, his face distorting with a disgust that Enjolras found amusing. He made a comment about how Jehan would possibly be interested in the gothic, but beyond that, he stayed quiet, until:

“Do you think we could race outside of this collection without the guides noticing?” he asked suddenly, a little smirk forming on his lips.

Enjolras shook his head then gave Grantaire a stern look. “We can’t do that to them, it’s mean.”

Grantaire chuckled. “I knew you’d say that,” he said, “which is why I asked them about us skipping this thing to explore the painting collection beforehand.”

Enjolras stared at him dumbfounded, but Grantaire quickly offered him a smile. “Come on,” he said, taking Enjolras’s hand and clasping it with his, “we have to hurry if we want to get there before the evening comes to an end. I want to win your heart by showing you the most beautiful painting in the gallery.”

Enjolras gave him a suspicious look, his eyes narrowing. He wondered how much Grantaire had meant by his statement--how much of what he’d said through the evening was true, and how much was merely a joke. He allowed Grantaire to lead him to the next gallery, his heart racing against his chest. They ran together for a few moments, erupting with laughter as they raced past all the medieval pieces. When they finally reached the gallery Grantaire was looking for, Grantaire took his hand again.

The gallery was full of paintings, some of which Enjolras could recognise and others he had never heard of before. He quietly admired each of them, his eyes shifting from one to the other curiously. Grantaire walked uncommonly quiet beside him, his warm body bumping against Enjolras’s every now and then. Enjolras wondered if this was the place Grantaire had talked about showing to him earlier, and his heart raced when he noticed the Mona Lisa hanging by their side.

“We really got lucky to have won those tickets,” he said softly, his eyes still wide. He slowly walked closer to the painting, his head tilting as he studied every detail. “This place must get swarmed with people in the mornings.”

Grantaire moved towards him and shook his head. “There’s an even better, more beautiful painting to see in this collection,” he chuckled. “I’m sure any thoughts you could possibly have about the Mona Lisa will fade the moment you see this.”

Enjolras quirked an eyebrow curiously, but didn’t object when Grantaire once again pulled him to another gallery. It was a much darker room, painted in a crimson red that dragged Enjolras in. He carefully studied each of the paintings hanging from the walls until he noticed there, right in the middle, a painting Enjolras had seen plenty of times in his life, but never in person. He stepped towards it, his eyes widening, and his heart swelling with joy. He turned to look at Grantaire and grinned.

“I can’t believe I forgot they kept that here,” he said, breathless. “How could I forget?”

Grantaire laughed softly, his dimple gracing his left cheek. He moved towards Enjolras and took his hand. “Liberty Leading the People,” he said gently. “Enjolras’s favourite painting. A sight to behold.”

“It’s beautiful,” Enjolras murmured, his eyes roaming through every detail of the painting before him. He took a hesitant step closer to it, and smiled more calmly.

“I thought you might like to see it,” Grantaire admitted shyly, his hand hovering over the back of his head in embarrassment. “You mentioned never coming here before, so I thought bringing you here before any of us headed to bed might be a good idea.”

Enjolras nodded, his stomach aching from all the happiness he was feeling in that moment. He stared at the painting for a long moment, Grantaire standing right beside him, and everything slowly fell into place. He cherished the night he had spent with Grantaire, and mentally thanked his mother for encouraging him to take those tickets. He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his evening or his Easter holidays. He wanted to stay there, beside Grantaire.

Their two guides caught up to them after a while, both of them giggling and smiling when they noticed the two boys still standing before the painting. They gave Enjolras and Grantaire a brief explanation about the history and symbolism of the painting, throwing in comments about the colours and the fashion of the time. Enjolras listened to them intently, happy to learn something new about the masterpiece regarding him--encouraging him to follow in her footsteps.

When their explanation was finished, Cosette turned to Enjolras and Grantaire, her eyes full of concern. “Do you want to continue the tour, or would you rather turn in for the night? It’s getting rather late, but there’s a couple of collections to visit if you’re still interested.”

Grantaire shook his head. “I think that’ll be all for tonight,” he said, then his expression softened. “But thank you, both of you, for spending your evening with us.”

The two girls smiled and nodded, each of them bidding Enjolras and Grantaire goodbye, but Enjolras stopped them for a brief moment. “It was a pleasure meeting and learning from you,” he said softly.

He watched as both girls walked away, each of them smiling brightly and grinning, proud of their accomplishment for the night. Enjolras then turned to Grantaire, who was still regarding the painting with joy. Enjolras joined him, the two of them quiet as the time passed. They stayed there, finding a seat on the floor for a long time, until the dark and silence of the night engulfed them, and Enjolras broke the silence.

“Do you want to go to bed?” he asked. “Are you tired?”

Grantaire shook his head. “I don’t mind staying here if this is what you want.”

Enjolras groaned. “Come on, let’s go to bed if you’re feeling tired,” he said softly. He grabbed one of Grantaire’s arms and tried to pull him to stand, but groaned again when he thoroughly failed in the process.

“I’m too tired now, Enjolras,” Grantaire said playfully. “I’m afraid you’ll have to carry me.”

Enjolras huffed and let go of Grantaire’s arm, his stomach jolting when Grantaire let out a laugh. “Be serious,” he muttered.

Grantaire stood up in between laughs, his hands quickly reaching out to take ahold of Enjolras’. They stood like that, one before the other, without uttering any words. Enjolras allowed himself to bask in the warmth of Grantaire’s hands, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he found Grantaire had inclined his head closer, and the tips of their noses nearly touched. Enjolras leaned towards him, a huff of breath leaving his lips as his eyes slowly fluttered closed, but Grantaire quickly pulled away.

“What’s the fun in that?” he asked.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras stared up at the night sky as some guards escorted them back to their sleeping quarters. There were lights coming from every monument, every apartment, every corner of the city, gracing the dark like stars smiling from the sky. He had seen Paris in the night plenty of times, so many he could barely count them, but there was something special in that evening, something about sitting on a bed under the famous pyramids from the Louvre with Grantaire by his side, that made his heart flutter.

“This really is so romantic,” Enjolras commented. “Who would have thought?”

Grantaire snorted behind him. “I thought I said this before when we were having dinner,” he said, then shook his head. “You can’t keep stealing my dialogue, it doesn’t suit you.”

Enjolras laughed and turned to Grantaire, his heart beating fast against his chest. “I wish I could spend this much attention to Paris at night, as I have this evening.”

“Well, you have a long life ahead to do so,” Grantaire commented. He grabbed one of the pillows and motioned to grab one of the bed sheets, but Enjolras quickly placed a hand against his wrist to stop him. “B-better start doing it from now on.”

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked quizzically, his hand still pressing tightly against Grantaire’s wrist.

“I’m preparing myself for bed?”  

Enjolras tilted his head, then motioned for Grantaire to sit beside him. The bed underneath them was soft and comfortable, and Enjolras hummed to himself as he mentally prepared for the night that awaited. Grantaire regarded him curiously, and Enjolras took his hand. “If you were preparing yourself for bed, then why were you taking a pillow and sheets away from it?”

“Are you really gonna question me about this?” Grantaire asked exasperated. When Enjolras bowed his head waiting for an answer, he continued, “I’m preparing to make a bed on the floor, so I won’t disturb you in your sleep.”

Enjolras regarded him, then nodded in understanding. “You wouldn’t bother me in my sleep,” he said softly. “If you prefer to sleep on the floor, that’s okay, but don’t do it on my account. I would rather you slept on the bed and didn’t wake up with a sore back.”

“Are you sure about this?” Grantaire asked serious. Enjolras nodded. “Okay then, if we’re doing this, then it might be a good idea to close that thing. I don’t want the light of the morning to hit my face as early as six.”

Enjolras nodded and stood up from the bed. He tried to search for a sort of door or sheet or curtain that could possibly close their room, then finally he found it. He pulled the long curtain to cover their room, then turned to face Grantaire again. Grantaire was tucking himself into the bed, a tired but satisfied smile on his face. Enjolras quickly joined him, humming when the warmth of Grantaire’s body engulfed him. Neither of them spoke as they turned off the lights of the room, but Enjolras was too content to interrupt the silence.

They shifted around the bed in silence, both trying to find a comfortable pose to sleep. Enjolras considered making a bold move and asking if Grantaire would be comfortable with Enjolras wrapping his arms around him, but before he was able to speak, Grantaire interrupted him.

“Sleep well, Enjolras,” he said softly, his head turned away from Enjolras’s face. Enjolras couldn’t see him, but he could tell Grantaire was smiling.

“You too, Grantaire,” Enjolras replied.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras woke up with Grantaire’s arms wrapped around his waist, his head resting gently against Enjolras’s chest. Enjolras noticed with a gentle smile that Grantaire was still asleep, his breathing even and his eyes fluttered closed as he was engulfed in the silence of the early morning. He mentally thanked himself for closing those curtains before heading to bed when he realised the specks of lights coming out from under the blinds that could have easily stirred Grantaire awake.

Enjolras took a deep breath and looked down at Grantaire, how his curls had fallen onto Enjolras’s chest and a faint smile had formed on his lips. He looked almost angelic, all calm and quiet and quietly joyous. Enjolras hesitated before his fingers moved down to play with his curls, his heart indulging as his fingers gracely disentangled Grantaire’s hair. He allowed himself to bask in the quiet and tender moment, before he reminded himself that he needed to prepare to welcome the morning and the reality of their everyday lives.

He tried to shift his body away from Grantaire’s without stirring him awake, his hands gently pulling Grantaire’s arms far from Enjolras’s waist. He heard a muffled huff vibrating against his chest and closed his eyes. When Grantaire began to stir, he tried to shush him back to sleep.

“It’s okay,” he murmured gently, his fingers brushing against Grantaire’s hair to lull him back to peacefulness. “It’s okay, it’s okay. Go back to sleep.”

Grantaire groaned, his voice still muffled by Enjolras’s chest. Enjolras prayed quietly for Grantaire to listen to him, but it was in vain. Grantaire was awake.

“Enjolras?” Grantaire asked sleepily, his head tilting slightly. Enjolras waited for Grantaire to fully regain his consciousness, then smiled when he looked up. It took a moment for Grantaire to register what had happened between them, then his eyes widened with realisation. “Enjolras, I’m so sorry,” he proclaimed, startled. He quickly moved himself away from Enjolras and sat up to search for his morning clothes. “I’m sorry, I hope you slept well.”

“I did,” Enjolras replied. “It’s all okay, I hope you did too.”

Grantaire nodded without looking back at Enjolras. “What are the plans for today? Are they going to let us stay here long?”

Enjolras shook his head. “There’s supposed to be a table with breakfast waiting for us, then we’ll head back home,” he explained. “It was fun though, wasn’t it?”

Grantaire nodded, his eyes turning to the door. “It was,” he admitted, his voice higher pitched. “I had a lot of fun.”

They quietly finished preparing themselves to have their breakfast, each taking turns to change their clothes in the bathroom. Grantaire avoided Enjolras’s eyes throughout the course of the morning and into their breakfast. Neither of them spoke a word as they ate inside one of the galleries, the Venus de Milo watching them curiously. For a moment, Enjolras felt almost as though she was judging them, taking them for fools for their behaviour. Enjolras didn’t dare to contradict her.

When they finished their breakfast Enjolras walked towards Cosette and Éponine, who sat at the entrance of the building. He greeted them with a grand smile and thanked them again for their services, Grantaire following behind. The two girls bid each of them goodbye, equally as happily as they had done the previous night, then walked away to resume their work.

Enjolras turned to Grantaire, who continued evading his gaze as they walked outside of the building. His heart clenching against his chest. “You know, if you feel more comfortable, you could head back ho-”

“Good morning, gentlemen,” a silvery, thick voice said from behind them. Enjolras looked up to find his mother smiling at them, a small box of cupcakes in her hands. “I trust you had a pleasant evening.”

Enjolras huffed and shook his head, but a joyful smile threatened to form on his lips. He greeted his mother quietly and watched as Grantaire walked to her to introduce himself. His mother placed a kiss on both of his cheeks, then pulled him into a hug. When they parted, Enjolras noticed the delighted look on Grantaire’s face and his stomach fluttered.

“I brought you cupcakes,” his mother announced, then handed one to each, “and if you’re willing, I can prepare a delicious meal to welcome each of you back home.”

Enjolras and Grantaire turned to each other, and Enjolras’s heart melted when Grantaire smiled at him, all events from the morning quickly forgotten. Enjolras was aware of his mother’s eyes trained on them, curious and lively, and he took Grantaire’s hand. “Let’s go,” he murmured.

 

* * *

 

 

Enjolras stepped out of the shower feeling refreshed, but with all events from the previous evening and the early morning still fresh in his mind. He walked towards his room with a faint smile when he heard a few murmurs coming from his kitchen, gentle giggles and undefinable words filling his ear. He reluctantly walked towards that room instead, his eyes curious. He knew he would find Grantaire and his mother chatting there, but he wanted to know what kind of conversation they were having.

He found Grantaire leaned over the counter, his eyes studying his mother’s every move as she stirred a pot and prepared what smelled to be a fully delicious lunch. Enjolras hid behind the wall, his head peeking out curiously as he caught up on the conversation Grantaire and his mother were having. He noticed with delight how happy each of them looked, their eyes glinting as their conversation carried on. He hesitated before walking in, when he heard with perfect clarity the question his mother asked Grantaire.

“So how did you realise you were in love with my son?” his mother asked gently, her words resonating with him and reminding him of the questions the guides had sent their way only a few hours prior.

Grantaire didn’t hesitate, or shake his head, or look remotely nervous when he gave Enjolras’s mother an answer. Instead he smiled shyly, his eyes casting down to the floor. “I thought he was the most irritating person I had ever come across when I first met him,” he admitted lovingly, his voice tender. “He would never shut up about all these issues in the world, always finding something new to fight for or to debate about. We would always argue about how completely ridiculous all his ideas to save the world were, always found an argument to hit back at each other. But Christ, if I wasn’t a little obsessed with hearing him speak. Before I knew it that irritation had turned into something else entirely.”

Enjolras’s mother hummed knowingly. Enjolras waited for her to say something, but it was Grantaire who continued.

“I didn’t realise at first how much the world truly mattered to him. It wasn’t just some ridiculous attempt at having the moral high ground, but rather, an insane amount of love he harboured for everyone--for people he doesn’t even know,” Grantaire said softly, his lips parting to let out a gentle laugh. “And God,  _ his smile _ . Every time one of his ridiculous plans would carry out the way he expected, he would shine as brightly as the sun. I swear the world becomes a better place when he smiles and he goes on those long passionate rants about creating a better world for all the people. He’s just so--”

Enjolras watched as his mother erupted into soft giggles, her eyes gleaming with joy. She turned to Grantaire and took his hand. “You must really love him,” she murmured. When Grantaire nodded, she turned back towards the pot she had been stirring and frowned. “Ugh, I need to get more eggs to bake a cake,” she muttered, “Would you mind checking the lasagna while I go to the store? I won’t take longer than five minutes.”

“I’ll do it without a problem,” Grantaire assured her.

Enjolras waited quietly for his mother to leave before he properly walked into the kitchen. There were several different smells that filled his nostrils, and he smiled, giddy to learn everything that his mother had prepared. It took a moment for Grantaire to realise he wasn’t alone in the room anymore, and when he looked up to find Enjolras walking in with his hair still wet and his cheeks flushed, he grinned.

“Your mother is just as lovely as you had described,” Grantaire admitted. “Everything she cooks is delicious, I’m almost willing to fight everyone in my way to get her to have her own cooking show. I’m even willing to behave properly if it means I’ll get a bigger plate of that lasagna--”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted, his face serious. Grantaire’s grin immediately dropped and turned into a frown. Enjolras offered him an apologetic smile. “There’s something I gotta ask.”

“What is it?” Grantaire asked reluctantly.

“Did you really mean that?” Enjolras asked, a weight lifting off his shoulder. “What you said last night to our guides? What you just told my mother?”

Grantaire’s eyes widened in horror. He hesitated before taking a step back, his mouth agape. He took a deep breath then turned to Enjolras, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. “I do,” he admitted, his expression hesitant.  “Every bit of it. I… It’s been like this for a while,” Enjolras gasped in surprise, and Grantaire’s face grew somber. “You… You don’t have to say anything or do anything, I’m just… I hope you’re not uncomfortable. And if you are then that’s fine too, I guess I could just leave since this is your apartment and we can pretend none of this ever happened. I think I would prefer th--”

Enjolras shook his head, his hands balling into fists as he walked towards Grantaire and cupped his face. He pressed his thumbs against Grantaire’s cheeks and caressed them gently. When Grantaire gave him a puzzled look, Enjolras pressed his lips against Grantaire’s, his eyes fluttering closed as he basked in the minty scent of his aftershave. It didn’t take long for Grantaire to return his kiss, his lips eager and desperate. Enjolras could almost taste a hint of vanilla from the cupcakes they had eaten earlier and he giggled.

They were apart for a short moment before Enjolras pulled Grantaire to him again and deepened their kiss. Enjolras had kissed a couple of people before, both times chaste in essence, and not nearly as enjoyable as Grantaire’s kisses. There was something rough yet tender about the way in which Grantaire kissed--almost as though he was asking Enjolras for permission with each move from his lips. He tasted of vanilla and mint and smelled fresh as a morning in spring. Enjolras wanted to stay kissing him forever, and he might have done so until he heard a door open behind him.

Enjolras and Grantaire turned to find Enjolras’s mother staring at them with amusement, her eyes still glinting. “I should have known better than to leave two boys in love in charge of watching the food,” she said as she shook her head. She laughed and shooed them away from the kitchen. “Go on, have your fun elsewhere. I’ll be in charge of the kitchen from now on.”

Enjolras and Grantaire turned to look at each other and laughed. Enjolras gently pressed his hand against Grantaire’s and smiled--a smile had not yet faded when the evening came to an end.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading this fic, I hope it was enjoyable! You can also find me on [tumblr](https://eponinearchive.tumblr.com/)!


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